Contra Squall
by Piercing Nisha
Summary: A runin with the Dark Ace takes a turn for the worst when the leader of an unknown squadron, the Gyrfalcons, announces that Cyclonia has been annexed by his nation; Atmosia is next. Will Aerrow agree to team up with the Dark Ace to save both their homes?
1. Attacked!

Disclaimer: I do not own Storm Hawks (hell, I'm not even Canadian!).

This is my first Fanfic ever, so please be kind to the n00b. I'll even admit that it starts out a little slow, and I know that I put way too much description into my writing… just deal with it for now, 'cause I'm too lazy to go back and write it again.

Also, feel free to write me a review, good or bad. I'm gunna need all the help I can get, motivation wise… And if you have any ideas plot wise (aside from couples… sorry, I don't touch that) that you'd think would help the story, don't feel bad about sharing. Just keep in mind that I usually write a few chapters ahead of what I post, and that I have a plot line already.

Hopefully it won't suck (heh). Without further ado, I give you my story.

**Chapter One: Attacked!**

The _Condor_'s loud sirens wailed. Shrubbery of some small, unpopulated terra the Storm Hawks had only just left moments before shrank away quickly beneath the rusty carrier as she gained speed and altitude.

"We're doomed." Aerrow could barely bear the Merb's eerie utterance over his own confused yelling, let alone above the alarm bells. Stork looked as forlorn as ever as he stood hunched over the carrier ship's helm and instruments.

"What's wrong?" Aerrow had to yell again to get his voice heard above the noise. His green carrier pilot had only to point mournfully out of the side windows to give the young Sky Knight an answer.

"Talons!" he growled as several Switch- and Heli-blades passed in front of the _Condor_'s large windows. The drones of their engines were not quite stifled by the warning bells. "Stork! Turn that noise off and tell the rest of the team to meet at the hatch!" Not sure if he should feel angered that the Talons had interrupted a peaceful weekend or glad that his boredom would finally come to a long awaited end, Aerrow called for Radarr and prepared his gear.

A crackle and a screech like a thousand nails on a chalkboard, and then Stork's voice over the intercom: "Um, I don't mean to interrupt anybody's _nap time_, but we are getting attacked by Talons—" As if on cue, several large energy blasts hit the side of the _Condor_, sending her rocking slightly to one side. "—so, I think it'd be a good idea if you all, you know… went to fend them off now?" There was a pause. "Finn, that means you." A click, and then silence but for the sound of the Talons turning in midair somewhere behind the carrier to begin another attack, and Finn's mutterings from another room about not even having _started_ to get to sleep yet.

"Aw, _man_! Why can't they just finish us off already?!" Finn shouted to nobody in particular as he sauntered into the hatch. His mood changed as he caught his reflection in his highly polished energy crossbow and winked at himself. Aerrow caught Finn's narcissistic eye and snickered.

Piper, already seated in her Heliscooter, rolled her eyes at her odd friends. "Finn, don't say that! We might've even noticed them earlier if you hadn't wanted to get off the terra so badly." The blonde shrugged.

Finally, looking as perplexed as ever, Junko entered the hanger. "Uh, guys? Have you seen my Knuckle Busters?"

"Check your knuckles, buddy!" Finn called over the roar of the starting engines. There was an almost unheard "_oh!_". Aerrow looked around and checked his team. "Everybody ready? Okay! Let's go!"

The Storm Hawks exited the hanger and fanned out, looking frantically about for any signs of the Talons. Nothing. _Behind us?_ Aerrow turned his skimmer just in time to miss a discharge from a staff weapon.

Suddenly, but not quite surprisingly, the Storm Hawks were outnumbered by Cyclonians. Almost a tiny dot behind the _Condor_, the Aerrow could barely see the massive carrier that brought the dozen Talons out so far from Cyclonia. _No wonder Stork couldn't detect them sooner… they must've been tailing us since before we landed!_ Aerrow looked down. The tiny terra Piper had suggested they land on two hours earlier was already far behind them.

Another blast of energy snapped the redhead out of his reverie, and Aerrow joined the battle with a few exchanges of bolts. Next to him, Finn's skimmer was already emitting smoke, but the skyride didn't seem ready to die on the sharpshooter yet.

Several Talons had already been beaten; the Sky Knight could spot their parachutes floating along as they were carried steadily downward toward the Wastelands. He shuddered. The only person Aerrow could wish such a horrible fate on was—

The Dark Ace. _Speak of the devil! Where did he come from?!_ Master Cyclonis' most trusted and feared minion shot through the ongoing battle, deliberately drawing Aerrow's attention. Despite the distance between them, he could feel the amusement his nemesis received from engaging in battle. It sent chills down Aerrow's spine.

The Dark Ace's energy sword shot several bolts at Finn's already damaged skimmer, sending it crashing into a Talon's Heliblade. Both the Talon and the Storm Hawk, knocked from their skimmers from the hit, tumbled in midair before gravity began pulling them both down towards the Wastelands. The Cyclonian activated his parachute; Finn kept falling.

"Finn!" Aerrow yelled over Finn's surprisingly high-pitched scream, willing himself not to be distracted by Dark Ace's triumphant grin. Next to him, Radarr squeaked shrilly. Somewhere to the right of them, Piper echoed his cry.

"I gotcha, buddy!" a familiar voice yelled as Junko raced passed several Talon Switchblades to catch his falling friend. Aerrow and Radarr sighed in relief before directing their attention to the sinister man in the dark skyride.

Aerrow first saw him out of the corner of his eye as the Ace's Switchblade Elite swung to the right, just barely dodging a fellow Cyclonian. Angrily, the Dark Ace shot off a few blasts from his energy sword, almost unseating the unfortunate Talon. Aerrow grimaced and flew toward the Ace to give him a few shots of his own.


	2. Double Incursion

Disclaimer: I don't own Storm Hawks (dur).

Thanks for the reviews so far, guys! Any form of review, aside from spamming and hate-mail, is welcome. Think my story sucks? Leave a review. Don't like the plot so far? Leave a review. Like vanilla ice cream? Leave a review. Oh, and tell me if you see any spelling errors, too. I'm OCD about that…

Just a few things that I didn't note in the last chapter… The story is rated Teen (and/or Mature, I suppose…) for offensive language, strong/disturbing imagery, references to alcohol, violence, and hawt older men (well… maybe the Dark Ace is just sexy to me… :D).

Also, how are the chapter lengths so far? Too long? Too short? Please let me know!

**Chapter Two: Double Incursion**

"Let's go get 'em, pal," Aerrow muttered to his co-pilot. The blue creature growled in return.

"Hey, Dark Ace! Don't you ever get tired of losing?" he called over the noises of battle. Aerrow was disappointed to see the Dark Ace's scowl turn into a mocking smile.

"You know, Aerrow, I've been keeping a position in the Talons open just for you." The Dark Ace swung his glowing energy blade so that it pointed to Aerrow's chest. "Your talents as a _Sky Knight_," he spit the title like it pained him to hold it in, "could be put to better use."

Aerrow returned to mocking gaze and gripped his twin energy blades tighter. "I'm fine here, thanks. But I appreciate the _offer!_" At that moment, both the Dark Ace and Aerrow met in the air. The skimmers caught together, and both riders stood on their rides to exchange blows and fists.

To the Sky Knight's surprise, the Dark Ace fell back a step. "You've gotten better!" There was a pause in their fight. "But you seem to have forgotten who you're _dealing with!_" The Ace kicked Aerrow in the stomach, knocking him down and to the wing of his own skimmer. Radarr squeaked, a sound barely audible against Aerrow's gasp of shock. The Dark Ace lifted his sword and took aim at the fallen Knight. "You don't seem to realize just how many Knights have been in your position." Aerrow almost unheard that unspoken meaning behind the sentence: not many had lived after meeting the Dark Ace's blade.

Aerrow could hear a hum as the energy blade gathered power from the Firebolt Crystal located at the base of its hilt. Only just in time, he raised his blades and was able to turn the Dark Ace's blade slightly. The energy blast meant for Aerrow clipped the Skimmer III Ultra's top right wing.

The Dark Ace snarled in annoyance as the connected skimmers dipped to the side slightly; Aerrow's skyride began to emit black smoke.

_That was close. But if he hits that right wing again… _Aerrow decided not to finish that thought. At his feet, Radarr was attempting to untangle the two skimmers, but to no avail; his furry hands were too small.

The Dark Ace seemed to want to solve the same problem. With a fierce look on his face, he grasped his energy weapon in both hands and swung the blade low and fast, piercing and severing the top left wing of Aerrow's skimmer from its main body. _Whoa!!_ With a jolt, the two fliers were separate again, their riders shifting positions to maintain balance.

Aerrow seated himself in his near-useless skyride and desperately tried to keep it flying. He judged from the horrified look he spotted on Piper's face as they passed each other that he wasn't doing too well. Radarr abandoned his cockpit for a seat on Aerrow's shoulder; the skimmer was dipping violently to the left and started to drop like a rock. _Come on, baby, come on!_

He thought back to before Stork had worked his magic on the skimmer for the Atmos Great Race. "It's the rider, not the ride!" he'd said optimistically. Aerrow was starting to believe that was bullshit.

Above him, the Dark Ace chuckled to himself. _His_ skyride, Aerrow noticed, wasn't the least bit damaged. "Don't you ever get tired of losing, Aerrow?" The expression on his face was terrible. "That position with the Talons' starting to sound pretty good?"

"Go to hell, Dark Ace!" Aerrow retorted as his nemesis laughed harder. _Assuming I don't get there first…! _The permanent fog of the Wastelands was quickly drawing closer. He looked right, looked left, for any of his friends. Finn was squashed behind Junko on the latter's skimmer, and the both of them were trying to take down as many Talons as possible; Piper was busy tackling two attacking Cyclonians, one to the front and one to the rear; Stork was in the distance on the _Condor_, making a bold attempt to fend off any energy bolts and keep the ship in the air. Aerrow would have to handle the problem by himself.

The III Ultra's engines, and Radarr, whined loudly as Aerrow finally managed with some difficulty to pull the skimmer into a horizontal position, though turning right was proving to be tricky. "We're _fine_, by the way! Thanks for worrying!" he shouted to no one in particular. Radarr gave a disgruntled moan--

--which quickly turned into a shriek as the blue co-pilot narrowly avoided a red bolt of energy. The Dark Ace was once again on Aerrow's tail, a scowl on his face and charged energy blade in hand. The Sky Knight swung his skimmer around to try and change his unfavorable position.

It was then that he saw them: two- or three-dozen skimmers in no particular formation coming in from his left, all of them close enough to be easily seen but far enough that Aerrow couldn't yet tell which squadron they hailed from. "Piper! Junko, Finn!" he yelled in warning. In response, the noise of combat seemed to yield slightly, as Talons and Storm Hawks alike waited to see whose side the newcomers would take.

Even the Dark Ace seemed slightly put-off by the incoming fliers. Instead of continuing to attack the loathed Storm Hawk, he flew circles above his few remaining Talons. His expression shocked Aerrow: a mix of confusion (_So even _he _doesn't know if they're Cyclonians or not?!_), and anger that his near victory might soon come to an end.

Aerrow's eyes widened as the first wave of unidentifiable riders shot several accurate, if not slightly random, energy blasts from their staffs and blades. He noted that they had chosen only to attack Talons. _Atmosians! But what are they here--...!! Oh, shit!_

Several Talons had fallen in the sudden attack, but Aerrow had only just realized that his fellow Storm Hawks had not been spared as he first thought, though they were more fortunate: Piper was still in the air thanks only to the awesome maneuverability of her Heliscooter, and Finn was clinging to Junko more than ever as the Skimmer III EL shuddered beneath them. Aerrow himself was fine, so far. _Okay, so they're _not _Atmosians… so whose side are they on?_


	3. Explanation, Please!

Disclaimer: I don't own Storm Hawks. I don't even own any merchandise. (_IS _there swag available? If so, I'm totally buying a Dark Ace plushie…).

Thanks to nakedmolerat05, CZG, and Lace Agate for the reviews! More would be welcome, though. : )

Hopefully this chapter is a little longer, but I'm terrible at judging lengths, so… if it's not, next time I'll make sure it is.

And I'm not sure when I'll be able to update next, so please bear with me. I promise I won't be one of those people who writes, "I'll have another chapter tomorrow!" and then doesn't post for a month. I _swear_ I won't be like that. If something like that does happen, check my profile—if this story is on hiatus, I'll post it there.

Enjoy the chapter! _And remember to review!_ It really does help, motivation-wise. I'm sure you fellow authors understand.

**Chapter Three: Explanation, Please!**

With a scowl to rival all others, Cyclonis' right-hand-man was endeavoring to ask the same question of the oncoming enemy forces while blocking their energy bolts with his blade. Absolute anger darkened his brow, though his eyes were more alight than ever. Aerrow could even feel a change in the air surrounding the Dark Ace; it was colder, suddenly, a stifling sensation similar to the feeling he had gotten in the pit of his stomach when he had first battled the dark haired minion: the elite flier was extremely pissed. The third-party foes backed off a little; it seemed they felt it, too.

With a sudden yell of rage, the Dark Ace gave up his attempts at an interrogation, increased his skimmer's speed and, with a few swift turns and barrel rolls in the air (_He may be pure evil, but he _is _a pretty good flier, _Aerrow had to admit), took down a small handful of the first wave of enemies. After a few moments, only three of his Talons remained, and the four Cyclonians still had five or six times their number to face.

It was difficult to see at the speeds the skimmers were flying at, but Aerrow was sure that most of the third-party skyrides he'd seen so far were lacking any squadron crest. A small handful had kept their shields still attached to their skimmers, though they had tried, and ultimately failed, to paint over the squadron symbol etched there in the metal: Talons.

No wonder the Dark Ace was so unusually ticked.

_A rebellion! But how--? _"Never mind," he muttered to himself, directing his attention to his friends. "Piper!" he called.

"Yeah?" came the nervous shouted reply from somewhere behind him. "Can't it wait? Kinda busy over—_ahh!_" A scream. "Piper!!" _She's in trouble! _"Let's go, Radarr!" His little buddy rumbled in complete agreement.

Though the third-party attackers seemed focused mainly on the Dark Ace and his Talons, a handful had seen to it that the Storm Hawks were not left out on the fun. As he turned his skyride, Aerrow could see that two had viciously attacked Piper, and three had chosen to chase an edgy Junko and a petrified Finn around the _Condor_.

But Piper's adversaries were nearly successful. Somehow, she had lost her staff to one of the enemy, who was currently using her own weapon against her with a laugh to match the Dark Ace's.

Aerrow arrived only just in time. With a few consecutive blasts from his twin blades, Aerrow knocked both enemies out of their skyrides, and sent the hunks of metal, which Aerrow now recognized as Talon Switchblades, falling to the Wastelands.

Next to him, Piper sighed in relief, energy staff once again in her hand. "Thanks!"

"No problem." Below them, three more enemies slowly descended; Junko and Finn had won their scuffle. "Let's go get the other two and head back to the _Condor_ while we still have a chance." _And while the Dark Ace is still around to distract them._ Even from the distance between them, Aerrow could tell that the veteran flier was having a hard time of keeping himself in the air.

Piper seemed to know Aerrow's silent thought and turned to look at the Dark Ace's now solo fray against the remaining, but plentiful, unknown enemy skyrides. Her brown eyes were narrowed in thought. "It doesn't make any _sense_." Even as she spoke, they could both see a small wave of skimmers and scooters coming in from a barely visible carrier ship.

"I know. But we'll discuss it in the _Condor_."

Piper, Junko, and Aerrow had parked their skyrides on the small runway of their ship. They stood with Finn facing the ongoing battle, each not wanting to watch but unable to look away. One of the Dark Ace's wings was smoking, but he was otherwise still okay; the thirty-something enemies seemed to be going easy on him, to be leading him in a certain direction: away from the _Condor_, and towards the carrier ship of the unmarked squadron currently settled above a few tiny terras.

Though Stork had opted to stay at the helm of the ship, the Merb had checked in over the radio to tell the rest of the Storm Hawks that shields were down and that even with the telescopes he couldn't see where the squadron had originated from (nonetheless, he bet his X-Ray Peepers on an alternate universe).

Surprisingly, it was Finn who first broke the silence. "So, what do we do now?" he asked.

"We wait until the rebellion's over. Then we—" Aerrow stopped; his teammates were staring at him, confused. "What? Did I say something wrong?"

Piper exhaled and turned to her leader. "Yeah! What makes you think it's a _rebellion_?! They attacked us too, you know!" She quickly covered a small burn mark on her forearm that Aerrow hadn't noticed before. He blushed, ashamed.

"I-I'm sorry, I just… don't know what else it could be." He sounded unsure of himself as he continued. _Of _course_ it's not a rebellion!_ Some of the third-party had attacked their fellow Talons and commander, not to mention Aerrow's own unofficial Atmosian squadron. Surely a rebellion would have aided the Storm Hawks and not hindered them?

The team could hear yells and mocking laughter, oddly not from the Dark Ace, from the ongoing skirmish. The Dark Ace was being herded downward to a small terra near the enemy carrier. Aerrow turned his eyes away. "What do you think's happening, then?" he questioned. Junko remained silent and Finn merely shrugged and muttered, "Hell if I know, man."

"They have some Talon Switchblades and energy staffs, so we know at least some of them are traitors," Piper explained. "But most of them are look like they could be either Atmosian or Cyclonian civilians."

Next to her, Finn groaned. "_Shit_."

Piper winced. "Watch your language."

Ignoring her, Finn continued. "I mean, how are we supposed fight off the Cyclonian Empire _and_ these new whoever-they-ares?" Whimpering, Junko poked his friend in the ribs. Finn brushed it aside and went on. "Assuming, of course, that they're going to finish us off next…"

Junko yelled, "Er, guys? They _ARE coming after us!_" The Wallop waved his arms and pointed to an oncoming armada of skimmers gliding straight for them.


	4. The Proposition

Disclaimer: I do not own Storm Hawks (never saw that one coming, didja?). I do, however, own the characters I create and add to the story. Don't steal them!

Sorry for the long wait! Had a bout of writing block. Oh, and food poisoning. That sucked. Hopefully the wait after this won't be quite as long, but take pity on me! I'm trying to get a job and apply for college!

This chapter is a bit longer than the three before it, though it might be a tad boring. Sorry 'bout that.

Shout out to all the people who have reviewed and/or added this story to their alert and favorites list. Much appreciated!!

Also, does anyone else think that in some scenes Aerrow looks like a cat? Give him ears, and a bunch of fangirls will be thinking the same thing: Me-ow:3

Oh! Another question, this one not quite as odd: Are there any guys out there who even watch this show? Seriously. I think just about every Storm Hawks author on this site is a chick (big surprise, so am I!). Just wondering!

Enjoy! And please review!

**Chapter Four: The Proposition**

Finn saw Aerrow's eyes widen. "Get back in the air!" the redhead shouted. Junko followed his Sky Knight's instructions promptly, without waiting for his ride-less friend.

Piper and Aerrow didn't wait, either. "No, it's cool, I don't need a ride… No seriously! You guys go ahead, I'll… help Stork or something…" Suddenly, Finn felt very alone under the brilliant flashes of crystal weapons.

Sighing, the blonde took aim at the closest Talon traitor. He missed. _Aw, man! This is _so_ much easier in the air!_ Finn began to curse under his breath; he screamed the curse instead as a man in a scooter lifted him onto his skyride and tried to knock him unconscious.

Apparently, the kidnapper was successful; Finn dimly heard his name being called from far way, and then nothing else.

Finn woke to the pain of his aching head and the sound of dozens of engines. He could smell grass and a hint of sulfur—a terra? The weaponless sharpshooter found that he couldn't move; Finn's kidnapper had bound him around his wrists and ankles and stuffed something (_Is this my _sock) in his mouth while he'd been out. Sighing through his nose, Finn opened his eyes. The view wasn't exactly exciting: enemy skyrides, lots of them, weaving in and out of each other, circling around their huge carrier, and—fighting his friends!

The blonde struggled to a sitting position and tried to call out. _Hey! Guys!_ _Do they even know I'm down here??_

Someone kicked him down to a lying position _Oh,_manFinn had only just noticed that he wasn't alone on the small terra; ten of the unfamiliar enemy stood around him, their skyrides parked precariously close to the edge of the island in the sky. It seemed to Finn that they were waiting for something.

And then one of the squadron-less men said something to his companion and pointed to something out of Finn's range of sight, and the whole group made room for another skyride.

A different engine was roaring closer to the terra somewhere to his right. Only just in time, Finn pulled his tied legs into his body; a shiny, more modern variation of Harrier's Skimmer Classic rolled into his view, almost taking his toes with it. Finn squeaked.

A slim graying blonde haired man transformed the skyride into bike mode and stepped off. Finn could feel the man's cold gray eyes pierce his as he approached to get a closer look at the captive. The sharpshooter suppressed a shudder.

"Do you know who I am, boy?" the man asked, kicking Finn in the shins. Finn squeaked a negative muffled reply. His captor leered. "You will, Aerrow. You will."

Finn nearly choked on his sock. _He thinks I'm _Aerrow_? Why the hell am _I_ down here?!_ Even in his own head, Finn's voice sounded whiny and scared.

Then Finn realized something—it wasn't just the skimmer that was similar to the Rex Guardians'. The man's accent, his clothing, the look of his armor… a more modern style, yes, and a harsher look, but it was possible that this … commander (_or whatever he is, man_) once called Terra Rex his home.

A familiar engine hum distracted Finn; the Dark Ace, lacking his energy sword and surrounded by enemy skyrides, landed on the terra. Rather than looking enraged, Finn thought he had an air of annoyance, though his eyes burned into his blonde enemy counterpart's.

One other squadron-less enemy had also landed, this one bearing the Ace's sword. All eyes followed the glowing blade as it was passed to the older blonde man. He smiled. "I never thought I would hold _this_ again." The man pointed it at the Dark Ace's chest. "Do you remember the day, old friend?"

_They know each other!! _the voice in Finn's head screeched.

"You mean the day I _killed _you?" the Dark Ace sneered. He crossed his arms in spite of the threat of his own weapon. "And you're deluding yourself if you think I was ever your _friend_, Zaric."

The man named Zaric ignored the last comment. "Ah, yes. I'd nearly forgotten." He smiled to himself. "Well! In case you haven't noticed, I survived that plunge into the Wastelands, Dark Ace. And I know what you're thinking: 'He's here to kill me'. But, you'd be wrong."

The Dark Ace raised a brow and said in a mocking tone, "You mean you _didn't_ wait seven years of your pathetic life just to come and return the favor? I _never_ would've guessed _that_."

_Ah, good ol' Dark Ace … you can always count on him to liven the party. _Finn had calmed a little when he realized the Dark Ace's appearance didn't mean his imminent demise. But it also seemed that the commander of the Talons wasn't going to save him from… whatever. Finn was quick to notice that, thus far, the dark haired villain hadn't even turned to scorn the sharpshooter's sorry ass.

Finn returned to the present: Zaric was laughing quietly. "Yes, I suppose that part was a bit obvious. I'm sure you noticed, but my—" he paused where most would have proudly stated their squadron name, "--my _troops_ didn't exactly attack you with all their strength." Zaric looked at his remaining, but numerous, men. They were still battling Finn's friends. "It seems you didn't think it necessary to do the same."

The Dark Ace smirked, clearly pleased about his small victory. "And where were you when your men began fighting? Hiding in your ship?" He pointed to the large carrier.

This wiped the smile off Zaric's face. "I was doing research on your dear friends, the Storm Hawks." The satisfied grin returned. "You know, I've heard of your failure to exterminate the young squadron." His voice took on a quiet, mocking tone. "The young, inexperienced, pathetic excuse for a squadron." Zaric turned to Finn. "Lucky for you, Dark Ace, I've got a proposition to make; I don't have time for sarcasm." Finn thought he heard the Ace mutter, "That so?"

"Oh, yes. You're going to want to hear it, old friend. It's quite a good offer, if I do say so myself." Finn felt his stomach lurch as Zaric lifted him off the ground. "Aerrow! I'm sure you remember the Dark Ace?" He lowered his voice and whispered in Finn's ear, "Do you think he's scary, Aerrow? Are you afraid of my old friend?" Zaric smiled. "You should be more afraid of me than of him, young one."

He let Finn drop pathetically to the ground. Finn looked up and saw the Dark Ace staring at him, his eyes not betraying the knowledge they both had: Finn was, obviously, not a Sky Knight, and definitely not Aerrow.

The Dark Ace returned his gaze to Zaric's. "Of course he remembers me. Now, what about your proposition?"

Grinning, Zaric threw the glowing red blade to the Dark Ace. Startled, he caught it. "As you've been out in the middle of nowhere for the past day or two, I don't expect you to know: Your precious Cyclonia has surrendered to my master's forces."

Zaric took pleasure in watching the Dark Ace's face grimace horribly; his eyes widened in fear and complete shock. He finally forced one word out of his clenched teeth. "_What?_"

Except for a brilliant smile on his face, Zaric continued calmly. "The complete occupation of Cyclonia began only a few hours ago. Terra Atmosia is next." He paused, watching the Dark Ace's face. Finn, meanwhile, was having difficulty trying not to scream through his sock. "I want you to be there to help make our victory complete, old friend." He didn't answer several obvious questions his two captives had. It seemed to please him to let the Dark Ace and Finn wonder.

The man began circling the Dark Ace's rigid figure. "I know you don't even know who I am working for. I know you'd much rather kill me than listen to anything else I have to say." Zaric stopped at the teen he had mistaken for the Storm Hawk's Sky Knight. "But I'm not giving you much of a choice, Dark Ace. And there _is_ something in this for you." He kicked Finn in the stomach. "I'm giving you the opportunity to finish what you started. Kill Aerrow, or I'll kill you." He unsheathed his own sword and activated it; the blade glowed an angry yellow. Zaric aimed it at the Dark Ace's chest.

Finn groaned helplessly. The Dark Ace's arrival was going to be his death, after all. He found the man's gaze on him. The Ace's face was calm, his eyes clear: he had made a decision. Finn didn't particularly want to know what it was.

The Dark Ace raised his blade and took a few steps towards Finn. He glared at Zaric, silently telling the blonde man to get the hell out of his way. Zaric complied with a smile.

The Dark Ace and his prey locked eyes. He took a step closer, and Finn took a scoot back, until Finn knew he was at the very edge of the terra. Apparently satisfied with the position, the Dark Ace raised his blade above his head, and brought it down with a yell. Finn mimicked the scream in his head.

Then he realized that he was falling, not dying; the Dark Ace had severed the area he'd been sitting on from the main terra. _This is _so _not better than dying!!_

Above the continuing sounds of battle, dozens of engines, and his own silent yells, Finn could hear roars of frustration from Zaric and his crew: In the confusion, the Dark Ace had escaped on his skyride. On the right of his own falling body Finn could barely make out the Dark Ace on his skimmer among a few energy blasts from above, attempting to transform his ride so it would fly; as far as Finn knew, he wasn't successful, for at that moment, Aerrow yelled his friend's name and caught him on his skimmer.

For the second time that day, Finn was knocked unconscious.


	5. A Pleasant Day

Disclaimer: I do not own Storm Hawks. I _do_ have a right to using the characters and situations I want imagine, so don't use my creativity!

Sorry it took me so very long to update again… and I don't think the chapter is much longer, either, but hey! What're you going to do…

I think this might be my favorite chapter so far. It was fun to write. Be wary, though: f-bombs are dropped and 'disturbing' images are … read? Well, whatever, get used to it. That's life. Welcome to it.

And I didn't get the job at a certain famous coffee company. Apparently I'm don't have enough experience. Bullshit, I say! Aforementioned coffee company hires newbies all the time, dammit!

Anyway, please review and tell me how I'm doing! As Storm Hawks hasn't been playing (hopefully due only to Halloween specials?), motivation has been steadily declining… Reviews help!!

And yay to the one Storm Hawks fanboy! You get a prize for being the only guy on the site. Congratulations, here's a toy for you: Dark Ace's energy blade! (Yes, they do make those. And no, I'm not actually giving you one. Sorry.)

**Chapter Five: A Pleasant Day**

Finn landed on Aerrow's skyride with a large _crack!_ as something in the former's body snapped from the impact. Aerrow had only enough time to pause to make sure his lifeless friend was still breathing—he was—before blasts of colored energy forced him to keep flying.

On his shoulder, Radarr squeaked and pointed below them; the Dark Ace's sabotaged skimmer had just disappeared in the fog of the Wastelands, its owner cursing loudly as he quickly descended. "Rescue the Dark Ace?" Guilt stole through his body. He _did_ just save Finn… "No, Radarr, we can't." _There's the weight issue, for one… and we're already flying with only three wings… _"We need to get back to the _Condor_."

He activated his radio transmitter. "Stork? We're going to need you to back us up. We're heading back, make sure we have room to land." He waited for a reply. "Stork? Are you there?" No answer. Aerrow looked wildly around, but the only ship flying amid the skimmers was the enemy's. "Hey guys, where's—." No sign of his fellow Storm Hawks. "Guys?"

Radarr squealed. "Not now, buddy, I need to find--." His sentence was left unfinished; several red blasts of energy hit their skimmer, ramming them straight into the side of a terra.

**Thirty-six hours earlier**

A warm draft carried the scent of metal. Screams and yells drifted through the airways. Henchmen scurried around her, afraid to make eye contact as they continued with their pathetic lives. The Dark Ace, as well as Ravess, Snipe, and those annoying Raptors, were away on missions.

All in all, life was good for Master Cyclonis.

Excluding, of course, the feelings of three or so unlucky men who happened upon a piece of bad news—a boiler had exploded and a man had died. They lay now in a room she had previously left, each sporting at least two broken bones.

And also excluding a very unfortunate piece of news brought to her by an even more unfortunate woman. Apparently, several units of Talons hadn't checked in for several days, and there were strange happenings in the bowels of Cyclonia. Master Cyclonis couldn't think of what had since happened to the harbinger, but she was sure she had last seen the woman only moments ago with a bruised eye.

But aside for those little occurrences, everything was running smoothly. Stranger things had happened in a day than misplaced minions and blown boilers. Things were getting built, terras were being converted as she walked, and even the bravest of men felt their hearts turn to ice at the mention of her name.

A good day for Master Cyclonis, indeed.

And yet she felt that something was a bit off. The air was quite too warm for the corridor she currently walked through. There was far too much screaming for the time of day. Her henchmen seemed a little _too_ afraid of her as they weaved around her. And since when did _all_ of her top minions have the clearance to leave, all at once, for days at a time, mission or no mission?

Cyclonis had already convinced herself that a boiler was no problem. Things like that surely happened everyday … but since when had anyone bothered to tell her about such a small occurrence? But the missing Talons, that was no problem—they were easily replaceable. Exactly how many were MIA? She couldn't recall; the woman had told her, had even stressed the number, but Master Cyclonis had failed to care. Nor could she remember the odd happenings in Cyclonia's lowest levels. A small break-in, wasn't it?

And then it wasn't so great of a day, after all.

As she walked, Cyclonis could hear the screams becoming louder. The air was warmer, and black walls reflected more red than was normal in her building. A scowl on her face, she entered the next room, a gigantic hall which, like the ones around and below it, harbored dozens of boilers and mechanical devices that she had helped design. They were all ablaze. The air no longer smelled only of metal, but of burning oil and of flesh as well.

"Exactly what the fuck is going on here?" she bellowed, startling the nearest Cyclonian. The bright jumpsuit he wore labeled him as a custodian.

"J-Just a bit of a fire, Master Cyclonis!" the small man stuttered. He bowed and turned away to help quench the out of control flames.

'A bit of a fire'…is that what they see this as? This damage alone will set me back a fortnight at least! Still, it was a beautiful sight: fire dancing among the metal behemoths, men singing an awkward song with their guttural screams… 

Cyclonis snapped out of her reverie. "You, there!" Ten feet away, a Talon turned to acknowledge her command. "Radio the Dark Ace, I want him back at once. And get this fire quenched, hurry it--." With a resounding _boom!_ several large blasts rocked the foundations of the heart of Cyclonia. More yells erupted from around her, indicating that fires had started elsewhere.

_Fuck!_ With a growl, Cyclonis left the hall the way she had entered. She was stopped by another Talon. "Master!" He bowed slightly. "Master, I think it best to stay here for now. It could be dangerous, the building could collapse--."

She interrupted him. "Then it's best I get out of here, isn't it?" With a forceful shove from her staff, the man landed on the ground. Then the drone of hundreds of engines echoed through the hall.

"Who ordered an evacuation? I want those skimmers back on the ground, immediately!" Cyclonis yelled. This time, no one turned to heed her command.

Something clicked in her mind. What was once a good day had turned horrible, the worst since the fall of Cyclonia ten years prior. She knew why her minions had not made awkward eye contact. She knew why so many Talons had gone missing. She knew why she had been bothered with the knowledge of exploding boilers. And she knew why all of her strongest people had been sent on mysterious missions mostly without, she realized too late, her implied consent.

Traitors, distractions, and no back up. Perfect.

And it was definitely no evacuation. It was a planned attack.

Several more tremors rocked the foundations of the building and sent men tumbling over each other and into the raging fires. Cyclonis felt gladness, that at least some lives would be taken for the traitors' foolishness.

But who, exactly, had planned such an attack? The Dark Ace, she knew, would never make such a cowardly act; he always made such aggressive movements in person. Ravess was too cunning, and Snipe too idiotic. The Raptors were far too unorganized.

Who, then, had betrayed her? Who's terra would she have to destroy? Which 'loyal' units would she have to raze?

Such questions would have to wait; she had to deal with her own life first.

A change in the pitch of the engines told her that several skimmers had landed somewhere in, on, or near the main building. Yelling and loud clanging told her that scuffles had broken out among the few loyal Talons and the traitor Cyclonians and whatever their allies called themselves.

With a yell of rage and frustration, Cyclonis felled the dozen or so charging defectors with a sweep of her staff. They would all pay for her anger, if nothing else.

And it had been_ such_ a pleasant day…

Cyclonis left a trail of wounded and lifeless rebel Talons behind her. The line of attacking men didn't seem to end, and the hum of engines had still not faded away completely. Cyclonians with enough sense to protect their master had already fallen behind, only to join their treacherous brethren in death.

Not that she cared how many died. That number would likely triple before she even left the building, which would hopefully be soon. Just one more corridor before she reached a hall she knew to be filled with Switch- and Heli-blades…

But she was stopped, not by more disloyal Talons, but by a familiar and hated face.

"Zaric," she snarled.

The man with slate colored eyes laughed. "Greetings, Master Cyclonis." He bowed, with hand over heart, in the same maneuver she was used to seeing the Dark Ace perform. "And how are you on this fine day?"

Now it was Cyclonis' turn to chuckle. "Master? The rumors tell me you have a new master now." She scowled. "Pathetic traitor." Zaric hadn't changed since last she saw him, though she had been far younger then. He still wore his wretched imitations of his hometerra's armor and weapon. His accent had grown more annoying over the years.

Then a thought occurred to her; how had she forgotten? "Didn't the Dark Ace kill you off?" Her backstabbing attack plan had obviously gone awry somehow. The Dark Ace had apparently failed, too; his punishment would come later.

"Ah, the Dark Ace." A smile crept onto Zaric's pale face. "I don't believe I've had the chance to see him since that day. I shall have to arrange a meeting." He turned back to his former master. "You, unfortunately, won't be there for the reunion of comrades."

'_Comrades'? I don't think the Dark Ace would agree on that term… _"And why not, Zaric?" she mocked. Behind her back, Cyclonis gripped her staff tighter. She heard movement from either side of her, as well as behind her. Enemy skyrides still droned on, shrieks of pain still carried on the air, and the metal walls near her were started to feel a little warm…

Zaric chose to answer the sarcastic question. "I'm afraid we cannot allow you to run Cyclonia the way you wish to. You see, my master has long been planning your territory's demise. This day marks the end of your empire, and the beginning of ours."

Amid the sound of her own incensed cry and the clanging of metal as weapons were drawn around her, Cyclonis could barely hear Zaric's whispered words: "Long live the Scavengers. Long live the Gyrfalcons."


	6. Five more Minutes

Disclaimer: I do not own _Storm Hawks_, but I claim the characters I add to the fanfic as my own… don't steal them, please!

I'm not too fond of this chapter… but hopefully Stork fans will like it! And I think it's a bit longer than my previous chapters, though not by much.

Thanks to all of you who've reviewed so far (and to those who are reading it but not reviewing)! It's been a big help. (Though I find it kind of funny that people feel sorry for Cyclonis. laugh But I really shouldn't be laughing, 'cause her situation sucks…).

But you know what would be a bigger help? _New episodes on the TV, dammit! CN's Videos only work on my campus' computers!_ So, if anyone at Nerdcorps or Cartoon Network happen to be reading this … please put _Storm Hawks_ back on a good schedule! And don't lie about which episodes you're going to air—that's mean:O (Also, all of you should watch the UK opening—the US one sucks—it's awesome!).

Anyway, enjoy the dumb chapter and **review**!

**Chapter Six: Five More Minutes…**

Aerrow didn't open his eyes immediately. He was afraid to see what had become of his friends. That, and his own body was in so much pain he didn't think twitching an eyelid was possible.

So he lay—or stood, or crouched, or floated, he couldn't be sure—in the same position he'd found himself in when he woke. Strange feelings in his body told him he was hungry, cold, and groggy.

And angry, with a touch of guilt, but he couldn't remember why.

Distant thumping noises told him he was near, or in, something made of metal.

Metal… Swords… Weapons… Carriers! _The carrier's enemy? No, wait… _Coherent thought was difficult, too… _The enemy carrier?_

Aerrow forced his eyes open. It wasn't impossible, after all. He was surprised to find he wasn't in an unfamiliar and hostile carrier ship, after all. It was his own. It was the _Condor_, and he was lying on his bed in his room.

The odd thumping—_footsteps?_—were getting closer. His heart fluttered wildly. The last time he'd seen the _Condor_ had been in battle, and then he hadn't seen it at all. So how was he _on_ the missing airship?

And who the hell was opening his door?

Aerrow breathed—or tried to—a sigh of relief as Stork meekly peeked his head around the open hatchway. "Oh. You're awake."

The redhead laughed, as best he could. "Doesn't someone sound relieved."

The Merb walked closer to his friend's bed and shrugged. "Well, I was just hoping I could get the _Condor_ somewhere safer before you went off on your …" he to scratch his neck and search for a proper—and probably morbid—word, "_suicidal_ rescue mission," he twitched.

"Rescue mission? For who?" Then Aerrow remembered his last thoughts before he crashed. He leapt to his feet, only to swear loudly from the pain. His legs buckled beneath him and he landed on his bed. "Stork! Where're the others?!"

"Oh. Um, right. I thought you knew…" Stork muttered something under his breath about Aerrow's brains having been knocked loose (and that maybe he had gotten some kind of contagious, incurable disease from the unknown squadron?).

"Stork!"

"_They're_, um… captured." Stork paused for effect. "Or worse."

Shit! 

"Except for Finn. And Radarr." He paused again. "And me."

_Finn, Radarr… the crash!_ "How're they? Are they okay?"

Aerrow's head was swimming. Piper and Junko, captured. Great.

"Radarr's fine. He used his parachute. Finn's okay, but he hasn't woken yet. And his right arm popped out his socket." Stork's shoulder twitched from just mentioning it. "And I think he broke a finger or two." His green hands followed suit.

_Mysterious squadrons…_ "Finn… is he in his room?" Stork nodded. "I need to talk to him." Was the door always that far away…? "And I'll, um, need help up."

With Stork's help, Aerrow just made it to his blonde friend's room before his legs buckled again.

They found Finn sleeping deeply, a slight frown on his pale forehead. His right arm was in a sling and several of his fingers were wrapped up.

Had _he_ looked this terribly ill? "Finn," he whispered. The blonde didn't move. "Finn." Nothing. "_Finn!_"

At the call of his name, Finn snorted and rolled over. Aerrow poked him in the stomach, hard. "Five more minutes," Finn muttered.

"Finn." Aerrow inhaled. How could he just come out and tell him his best friend was missing?

Luckily, he didn't have to. At the solemn tone of Aerrow's voice, Finn had looked up and counted the number of members present. "Hey guys? Where're Junko and Piper?"

Aerrow exhaled loudly. "They're missing, Finn. Do you remember anything before we crashed?"

He saw Finn mouth the last word a few times before it finally came to him. "Oh shit! We crashed!"

"Yeah. We crashed. But, do you remember anything?"

Finn looked frustrated as he tried to remember. "I fell on your skimmer, we crashed after that… Um, falling?" He frowned. "Oh! The Dark Ace! He saved me! And some weird dude, he was, like … a former Rex Guardian, I guess." Finn licked his lips. "And my sock." He picked a thread from his mouth. "Eww…"

Aerrow blinked. "Wait. A Rex Guardian?" Though he himself had only seen him from afar, the blonde man had _looked_ slightly like one of Harrier's crew, but the mysterious man was… slimmer, older, and foreboding.

"Hell if I know, man, but…" Finn explained what had happened on the tiny sky island, from his capture, to Zaric mistaking him for Aerrow, to how the Dark Ace had saved his ass.

"…And then I woke up to you _poking my ribs!_"

Aerrow ignored the last comment. "So this … _Zaric_… he was a Talon?" Finn shrugged. "And the Dark Ace tried to kill him, but failed…" He sighed. "And now the one man we could ask about this is probably _dead_."

Stork twitched again and Finn jumped so high he nearly hit the ceiling. "_WHAT?! The Dark Ace is DEAD? But… but he totally _saved_ me!_" he yelled.

"Calm down Finn, I said he's _probably _dead. We … don't know for sure…" he ended lamely. Finn sat on his bunk, looking aghast.

"…_Saved_ me…" he muttered.

Stork cleared his voice to speak. "Well, _I_ was there the whole time and I didn't see him pull up to keep himself from—" he paused for effect. Aerrow and Finn rolled their eyes. "—_crashing into the Wastelands_," he ended with a twitch of his long fingers.

Then something occurred to Aerrow. "Wait… you were _where_ the whole time? And speaking of crashing, how are Finn and I alive, exactly?"

"Oh, right. Well, uh, about the time when you were catching Finn, and Junko and Piper were captured—" _What a weird thing to say… our friends are out there somewhere, on a hostile and unfamiliar carrier ship, with no idea if we lived or died…_ "I was trying to keep the _Condor_ … and myself… from getting further damaged, but they just kept shooting us, so…" Stork lovingly patted the closest wall of the room, "I pretended they'd hit us and that we were dead. And went into the Wastelands." An eyelid twitched. "_Really_ close.

"Oh, and you're only alive because you all fell onto a shelf in the Terra. Otherwise, you'd have been goners."

Finn looked petrified. "Thanks man, I needed that." Stork muttered his welcome.

"Why'd they take them?"

Stork looked confused. "Took who now?"

Aerrow breathed out angrily. He found his body shaking from exhaustion and fury. "Piper and Junko. Why them? Why not me?" _I'm the one they obviously wanted, so why the fuck didn't they get _meI_ should be the one with the broken bones; _I_ should've been captured. Hell, I should be _dead_ by now!_

At Finn's muttered pleads, Aerrow took a few breaths. "I'm sorry," he mumbled.

"It's not your fault, man, I'm the one who got himself captured," Finn whispered consolingly.

"And I was, um, here the whole time. To, you know, make sure we still had a home return to," Stork added. "Oh, and shields were down, but I fixed it. And both of your skimmers are fixed. I'm still working on Junko's and Piper's."

Aerrow was impressed. "Wow, Stork, you did all that in—" he looked outside; it was almost night. "—what, a few hours?"

"Er, three days, actually," he corrected, holding up three shaking fingers.

Aerrow was silent. "I've been sleeping for _three days_? Dude, that's like, a record or something…" Finn muttered.

_They've been missing three days. _We've_ been missing three days…_

"Have you tried hailing them on the radio?"

Stork nodded. "They won't answer. The enemy probably took it from 'em, anyway. As well as anything else of use…" he trailed off.

Aerrow hated to ask, but … "And the Dark Ace? You said you didn't see him pull up?"

The Merb shrugged. "Don't know, man. When Finn was on the terra, I saw one of the Tal-- … I mean, one of the traitors sabotage the skyride… and then he disappeared under the clouds… but I didn't see him when I was there, so!" Stork shrugged. "We can only assume the worst. His body has probably long gone, burned by the lava of the Wastelands… unless he crashed into a rock pillar first…" He paused at Finn's look of horror. "…Or he could be alive."

Aerrow frowned. _Alive…_ "Finn, you said Zaric survived the Wastelands when… you know…" The blonde nodded. "Then the Dark Ace can, too." _I just don't know if that's a good or a bad thing…_

Finn looked cheered. He rubbed his injured hands together. "Alright! Let's get some grub, I'm starving!"

_Yeah, food sounds good…_ Stork helped them to the _Condor_'s main room.

After a few hours and a hot meal, Aerrow found that it was easier to move around. Over the past few days, any damage done to his body had begun to heal nicely, and he found he could ignore whatever pain was left.

However, he couldn't ignore the pain in the pit of his stomach. At every turn, Aerrow expected to see Piper waving him over to give his opinion on her latest plan, or Junko helping Stork maintain the _Condor_. Instead, he saw Finn moping about the corridors, all the humor gone out of him without his Wallop buddy, and Stork, still visibly shaken from the fight.

The only member of the squadron Aerrow had yet to see, or imagine, was Radarr. It was to find him that Aerrow now traversed the halls. He eventually found him in the hanger.

Aerrow whistled in awe as he walked in. "Wow, Stork wasn't kidding!" There sat his Skimmer III Ultra, looking more perfect than the moment before the battle. Finn's Skimmer III was in the same condition. Piper's Heliscooter and Junko's III EL lay almost as Stork had probably found them. Radarr was hidden among the wreckage, sorting through damaged parts.

"Hey there, buddy!" At this sound of Aerrow's voice, Radarr clicked and hopped over to hug his friend's leg. He chirped again and Aerrow found his blue friend on his shoulder.

Aerrow surveyed the skimmers with a smile. "You guys did a good job!"

Thumps behind them told Aerrow that Finn and Stork had joined them.

"You're not, er, actually _thinking_ about a suicide mission … are you?" Stork asked meekly, scratching his arm.

Aerrow's face fell a little; in truth, he hadn't even seriously thought about a rescue mission. "No. We need a clue as to where they were taken first. And we'll probably need help."

An image of the Dark Ace attempting to take out the traitor Talons and their allies flashed across his mind. _Ask the Dark Ace? _Even in Aerrow's head, the idea sounded ridiculous. _Impossible. Even if he's alive, we have no way of finding him._ Aloud, Aerrow sighed. _And he's Cyclonian…_

"Has anyone tried to contact us? The Sky Knight Council, Starling, the Rex Guardians … anyone?" he asked.

The Merb shook his head. "Nope, looks like everyone's out of commission… or dead." Aerrow raised an eyebrow. Stork sighed. "Or, I suppose they could have radio jammers and no one can get through! … But either way, they could be dead." Finn, Aerrow, and Radarr rolled their eyes.

Aerrow pounded one first into another. "Then _we'll_ just have to find _them_," he said with a smirk.


	7. Prison Life

Disclaimer: I do not own _Storm Hawks_.

This chapter is a tad shorter than the others… but it needed to be written [not that it particularly wanted to, mind; the damned thing put up quite a fight….

Hopefully, a few questions you all have in the back of your minds will be answered… Nor not. [Insert evil laughter here.

Please review! The next few chapters will [with luck be amazing [I hope….

**Chapter Seven: Prison Life**

Piper woke next to the familiar shape of Junko. For all she knew, it was still night outside; the cells they were held captive in allowed for no light save useless, tiny crystals embedded inside the rock that formed three walls of their cell, and a small, currently covered, window in the huge door (made using the same metal most airships used, she'd noticed) of the fourth wall.

A draft carried itself under the door and chilled Piper. Beside her, Junko shivered in his sleep.

Lucky for her, the draft also carried voices. Over the fortnight or so of their capture, Piper had learned that the guards were careless with their information.

"…So, how's it going with that chick?" one guard asked.

His fellow forced a laugh. "Oh. _That_. It was… okay, for a while…!!" A far-off clanging sound made him gasp. Now the first man chuckled.

"What, afraid Cyclonis got out of her cell? Or that the Dark Ace is after us?"

The man laughed louder and ended with a sharp "_ow!_", as the other guard had apparently hit his friend. "Hey, shut up! You never know what Cyclonis could've kept down here…" He stopped, as if listening for any other mysterious sounds. "And they say the Dark Ace is dead."

"Oh? His _ghost_, then, protecting his master even in death…" Now they both laughed. The sound became more faint as the pair moved on, perhaps to another cellblock.

The short conversation wasn't as interesting as Piper had hoped. Other chats had given her and Junko more information; over the nights, they'd learned that they were being held in some basement cell of Cyclonia, a crucial piece of information they had missed upon their capture; Piper still shuddered to think of it, but they'd been roughly blindfolded the entire way, and Junko had been knocked out several times due to his brute strength. The Wallop still carried a few faint scars to prove it.

Apparently, Cyclonis herself was among one of the prisoners. It was odd for Piper to think that the girl she had once known as a friend was also the cruel master of thousands of people; it was even stranger to think that the same person was being held close to where she and Junko now lay.

All in all, Piper hadn't gleaned any new information from the conversation. She and Junko had only found out about the Dark Ace's supposed death several days ago. Honestly, Piper didn't know if she should be sorry that so talented a fighter, perhaps the only Talon capable of standing his own against the Gyrfalcon units, was dead, or glad that the man responsible for countless Sky Knights and Atmosians finally got what he deserved.

Assuming, of course, the Dark Ace wasn't still out there, playing a coward's role in a quickly transforming world.

Just remembering her capture made her head swim with anger.

The last thing she could clearly remember before her vision turned red was an image of Ravess and Snipe, not protecting their Master, but directing the Gyrfalcons. With Zaric's help, they had captured her with little damage to themselves (though, and the thought soothed her anger a bit, a few other Scavengers hadn't been nearly so lucky).

Thinking about her own ignorance made her fists clench until blood rose past the broken skin. Recognizing some of the faces of the Scavengers and the fighting Gyrfalcons made her teeth grind with resentment. Simply seeing Zaric's face, as often as he "visited", made her want to choke the life out of everyone she thought she had trusted.

She knew she might never get that chance.

Still, she acted like everything was going according to her own plans when Zaric came round to check on her. He usually left with a scowl on his face, and she usually stood grinning through the small window of the heavy metal door, her only source of light.

After all, Cyclonis was still Master of her private cell, stripped as she was of her power and personal items. They'd taken everything from her, from the crystal she kept around her neck to whatever random bits of shit she'd had in her pockets, and clothed her in a tight, horrendous jumpsuit.

Two weeks ago, perhaps longer, they had brought her to the bowels of her own kingdom and to the same crystal-less, reinforced cell she had designed. She knew there was no escaping it, save liberation or death; given the situation, neither were options.

For a few days, it had seemed there was another option, though. One of the Scavengers gave her enjoyable news: there were loyal Cyclonians and Talons among the Scavengers and Gyrfalcons. Some, like the man himself, posed simply as workers, though there were many others among the squadrons. They worked mainly to spread the word to Cyclonians elsewhere in the Atmos, to tell the rest of her people that hope was not lost.

She was surprised to learn that some of these scattered civilians had not even _known_ about the occupation and takeover of Cyclonia. For whatever reason, the Scavengers were keeping it hushed.

A day or so afterwards, the same man had returned, this time with a tray of food that he slid through a slot in the door, and more messages.

There was one bit that struck her as odd: The Dark Ace was missing—apparently Zaric had kept his word and visited his "old friend"—and was presumed by many to be dead.

Her most loyal minion also happened to be the most powerful in the skies. If he was truly defeated, once and for all, then, well—Cyclonia as she had planned it was screwed.

The food-bearing Scavenger had brought her more messages over the following days, mostly concerning where the main Gyrfalcon forces were stationed and Ravess' and Snipe's last known whereabouts.

Only a few items were more interesting: The Scavengers had begun to jam all radio transmissions, including their own. In her free time, Cyclonis had figured that their ground- and air-troops were given orders ahead of time, and were expected to carry them out unerringly unless told otherwise, in person, by someone of higher authority. There would be little to no room for sabotage or a coup of any kind. And, it almost guaranteed chaos to follow any Gyrfalcon unit; damage to any rebel terra, Cyclonian or Atmosian, would be multiplied instantly.

Cyclonis herself doubted she could've proposed a more perfect plan.

But the loyal Cyclonian man hadn't appeared for several days. The Scavengers who tended to her were ordered not to speak with the prisoner—how Cyclonis despised her position…—and every food tray was thoroughly examined by a trusted official before given to her. Unfortunately, it eliminated the chance of receiving any news.

Or so her captors had planned it. In the first days of the first man's absence, a few others had risked their lives by writing messages on bits of paper, which they stuffed into her food.

The last message had been written and received nearly a week ago. Whether the Scavengers had managed to weed out disloyal members, or by some coincidence her Talons hadn't been chosen for the week's shift, Cyclonis didn't know. She could only wait and plan schemes for revenge she would probably never see come to reality.

The sound of laughter cut through the silence as a guard or two walked near her cell. Cyclonis found the noise annoying; if her shackles allowed for easier movement, she would've clawed at something, anything, simply to drown the sound out.

"Oh, that was a good one," one of the guards muttered as the laughter died down. His fellow shushed him, and the two walked silently, freely, past Cyclonis' cell.


	8. Lost and Found

I'm finally back! That's right, I've finally continued this story. Hopefully you're all still interested in reading it… And I'm sorry, for the long delay, but a lot of things have happened, including a computer crash. And hey, lack of new _Storm Hawks_ episodes didn't exactly help either.

And pardon any and all changes in writing style--hopefully there will be no more confusing transitions and such.

Thanks to everyone who has read and reviewed this story thus far! Please remember to leave a comment! Also, please check my profile for updates on when I think I'll be able to post new chapters.

**Chapter Eight: Lost and Found**

It had been nearly a month since Piper's and Junko's capture.

It had been nearly a _month_ since Aerrow had heard Piper's shrill squeak of glee at the discovery of a new use of some crystal, or Junko's echoing laugher as he and Finn grappled over the last pancake.

It had been _nearly a month_ since the Storm Hawks had been, well, the Storm Hawks.

At least, Aerrow kept telling himself it had only been less than a month—frankly, it had felt more like years.

Clearly, something needed to be done, and not just about rescuing their missing companions. Not that everything that could be done _wasn't _getting done… but nothing Aerrow and the others did to help seemed enough.

But just yesterday, Aerrow needed to remind himself as he wandered aimlessly through the halls of the _Condor_, the crew had managed to warn Wren, Dove, the people of Terra Gale and her protectors, the Rebel Ducks, of the danger lurking within Cyclonia. Well, the _new_ danger lurking within Cyclonia…

And they had finally found a name to match Zaric's army: the Gyrfalcons, the newest scourge of the Atmos.

Unfortunately, that was the largest piece of information they had yet to find. Anything else—not that there was much—seemed trivial. Though, without Piper to search through the subtleness of the information, Aerrow couldn't be sure.

So, he had decided that the Storm Hawks' primary mission was to spread the news about the Gyrfalcons and their infamous commander. And, of course, to find out where Piper and Junko were being held.

Which meant that things he had planned to do immediately would have to be put on hold.

Aerrow tried running the list through his head again. One, the Storm Hawks couldn't spend all their time searching for the Dark Ace. First off, he was a Cyclonian, most trusted of all of Cyclonis' henchmen, even _if_ he had saved Finn. Sure, he would have invaluable information on Zaric, maybe even where they would have taken their friends, but if trying to locate the man meant putting innocents in danger, then it wasn't worth their time. Besides, Aerrow had the feeling that, unless your name was Cyclonis, _you _didn't find the Dark Ace… the Dark Ace found _you_.

And, of course, the man could simply be dead. (Something Finn firmly did _not_ believe, and Aerrow judged his friend to be right.)

Two, trying to muster the Sky Knights of the Atmos for an attack on the Gyrfalcons. As far as anyone could tell, the unruly militia was keeping itself hidden; Aerrow very much doubted if most of the other Sky Knights even _knew_ that Cyclonia had been annexed, let alone that Zaric and his nameless master had set their sights on Atmosia next. Either way, contacting them all at once would be impossible; the Gyrfalcons had found a way to block all radio transmissions, including their own. The Storm Hawks had no idea as to _why_, of course—Piper had always been good at that (_still _is _good at that_, Aerrow corrected himself)—but they were sure it wasn't for the good of both nations.

Third on the list dealt with previous reasoning—contacting Starling. The lone Sky Knight had always contacted the Storm Hawks, not the other way around. Trying to locate her without radios, without having the slightest idea as to where she was… Aerrow didn't want to think about how complex that might become, and how time consuming. Like with the Dark Ace, it was best that Starling somehow came to them.

And Aerrow suddenly shuddered, to compare the Dark Ace, the villainous creep of a Cyclonian, to Starling, the brave Atmosian woman. And to compare them as if they might be equally helpful…

_Wait. Waitwaitwait. I'm not starting to think of Dark Ace as something less criminal than Zaric and his army of traitors, am I? Not as an _ally_? _Aerrow shuddered again, realizing that in this case, even the Dark Ace was more friend then foe. _Probably. Maybe…_

O o O

Aerrow eventually found himself standing next to Stork. The Merb was busy fiddling with dials and pulling levers, and checking the status of his precious _Condor_ at the same time. The Sky Knight had never realized how much work it truly was, especially with two less helping hands aboard the ship.

"Stork, what's our status?"

"Well," the pilot began, "aside from being _entirely_ out of food, nearly out of fuel crystals and _THIS_,"--the Merb held two shaking fingers impossibly close together—"close to falling out of the sky no thanks to the _complete lack_ of engine crystals…" Stork finally paused to take a breath, "we're fine." Aerrow opened his mouth, but Stork interrupted him. "Until, that is, we crash into the Wastelands from waiting _too long to get said engine crystals!_"

The red head raised his hands in mock surrender. "Okay, I get it! We need supplies. What's the nearest outpost?"

Stork raised his eyebrows. "Nearest outpost? Oh, there probably aren't any. By now, the entire _Atmos_ has probably been converted to Gyrfalcons… We could be the only friendly ship left in the skies!" He immediately took to biting his black nails, looking fearfully around for protection.

Until a cruiser twice the _Condor_'s size passed them in the other direction, honking twice in pleasant greeting.

"'Only ship left in the skies,' huh?" Aerrow relied playfully, crossing his arms. Stork coughed and went back to doing what he did best: keeping his beloved in the air.

Aerrow couldn't help grinning. "In any case, we _still_ need to pick up supplies _somewhere_. I'll plot a course for the nearest supply outpost. Unless… Stork, do we have enough crystals to make it to Atmosia?"

Stork sighed; he knew where Aerrow was going with this one. "Probably. But if you get captured for being stupid enough to be seen on _Terra Atmosia_, don't expect me to come to your rescue!" His eye twitched to give to statement emphasis. "Because I _won't_."

Among lesser information, the Storm Hawks found that Zaric had it in for the remaining members of the squadron, Aerrow and Finn in particular (though _which _Aerrow he wanted wasn't clear). It wasn't surprising, really, after their first encounter with the Gyrfalcon's commander, but it certainly made it more difficult to move about the skies.

"Either way, we need to starting finding more information of the Gyrfalcons. The center of the free world is as good a place as any to start. And don't worry, we'll just steer clear of anyone passing out wanted posters," Aerrow finished jokingly.

"Whoa," an impressed voice said from the entrance to the bridge. "We have _wanted posters?!_" Aerrow turned to view the newcomer. Though it was already late in the morning, Finn had yet to find a time to change out of his pajamas. The two other Storm Hawks present couldn't help but notice they were covered in little smiling heads of the Rex Guardians.

Aerrow held in a burst of laughter as Stork muttered something about lack of taste. "You'd better get ready, Finn. We're heading to Atmosia!"

O o O

After abandoning a couple of Chroma Crystals—the only person ever capable of making them work properly now missing—Aerrow and Finn hastily donned disguises and were soon walking down the crowded streets of Terra Atmosia.

They weren't the _best_ possible disguises, Aerrow had noticed only a few seconds in. He was, after all, the only red headed teenager walking around with a moustache. Finn looked only a little better; his fake five o'clock shadow and carefully tousled hair barely covered his obvious youth. _It'll be enough. It'll _have _to be enough. And it's not like every Gyrfalcon in the nation is on this terra.._

But then, he couldn't _really_ be certain; surely a mastermind like Zaric would be able to work a few hundred Chroma Crystals, or even invent the perfect disguises to ensure that his Gyrfalcon spies blended in with the population.

And looking around a diverse place like Terra Atmosia, Aerrow could tell that, if he and Finn had already been targeted, the two probably wouldn't even know it until the very last second.

So, Aerrow signaled Finn to keep a close watch on anyone with a good view of the pair, and they tried to continue on normally.

"Okay, first we'll hit a crystal depot," the disguised Sky Knight said. "Then we'll see what we can do for food, and _then_ we'll see if we can't find—"

"The Dark Ace?" Finn suggested darkly from behind him.

"Naw, we can't look for him here, we'd—"

"N-no, really. It's the_ Dark Ace!_"

Aerrow turned to his right, to where a whiskered Finn was pointing, finger shaking from what he had to guess was surprise and more than a little fear.

And there, leaning on a lamp post like he owned the place, was one of Aerrow's greatest annoyances (the red head was sure the feeling was mutual). And he was looking directly at Aerrow.


End file.
